


Mutiny on the Booty

by ElDiablito_SF, Zoi no miko (zoi_no_miko)



Category: Black Sails
Genre: BS Kinkmeme, Crack, Humor, M/M, Prompt Fill, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 02:04:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15475083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElDiablito_SF/pseuds/ElDiablito_SF, https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoi_no_miko/pseuds/Zoi%20no%20miko
Summary: Madi and the Walrus crew are very annoyed at Flint and Silver's behavior and concoct a bulletproof plan to get them together.BS Kinkmeme Prompt Fill #237:A frustrated Walrus crew decides to take matters into their own hands and set up Silver and the Captain as they are both oblivious to the interest of the other. Crack + smut as those those two finally give in





	Mutiny on the Booty

**Author's Note:**

> 1) It's our anniversary and this is how we celebrate: please enjoy our anniversary baby!
> 
> 2) This is technically not canon compliant - Billy and Ben Gunn are on Maroon Island instead of Nassau, so whatever, suck it, canon! Ben Gunn still canonically loves cheese though.

It had been an incredibly long month for Madi. She was wise enough to recognize the change in her own feelings for John Silver, but that only made her more offended that he didn’t think she was wise enough to recognize the change in his feelings for Flint. Sharing a meal with him each night as he droned on and on about the object of his obsession was becoming a depressing ritual, one she had oft tried to curtail by attempting to feed Silver a dose of truth.

“Gosh, Madi,” Silver would start, as always, looking lost somewhere in his memories. “Flint is so great. And he’s been through so much, you know? And his shoulders are so wide, and his swordplay is so intricate, and his eyes are so green. I just really l…”

“You love him.”

“What? No I was gonna say I just really look forward to our fencing sessions. I have so much to learn from him, you know?”

“You love him.”

“No? That can’t be right.”

Apparently, that wasn’t getting her anywhere. She needed to do something. Silver needed to get this out of his system, or she was never going to get laid herself. As for the war, she couldn’t imagine that either Flint or Silver would be capable of having their eye on the ball, if Flint was even half as in love as Silver had seemed to her. Lost in her thoughts of this dilemma, she had been walking past the dwellings where the crew of the _Walrus_ had been set up when a very peculiar conversation caught her attention.

"Three times! The captain kicked me overboard three times, just for doing my job!"

Looking through the torchlight, it seemed as though that particular complaint was coming from the hulking mountain of a man that she mentally referred to as Arms. Madi tilted her head and tried to imagine a man of such size being overpowered by Flint.

"And he made me swab the deck four times! I've got bruises on my knees and I haven't even been to the sex tent!" whined some curly haired crewman whom she’d seen before hovering around Flint.

“Well, he told me I was a terrible doctor and that he hoped one day someone would butcher me the way I butchered Mr. Silver!” the man who Madi could only assume was their idea of a medic proclaimed. These _Walrus_ crewmen all looked the same. Except the one with the Asiatic look about him.

"Seems to me," said a new voice - one that Madi recognized well as the pathetic remains of the previous crew that had landed on her island - "Seems to me that when a man wants something he can't have, it puts him in a terrible mood. God only knows I've been terrible mean when I've spent a long time without any cheese."

The others around Cheese-lover all made very sympathetic, understanding noises.

“What d’you think the captain wants though?” someone asked. “He’s getting his bloody war, ain’t he? He’s got the _Urca_ treasure buried somewhere only he and lord knows who else can find. What else is he cravin’ that he ain’t got?”

After a moment of silence so long Madi thought she would have to give them the answer herself, she heard the voice of the _Walrus'_ navigator. "Perhaps the solution is our Quartermaster?"

"Even Silver's not going to get through that thick head," Arms grumbled. "He'll just tell him to go fuck off."

“Even Mr. Silver has never been so rude to me,” the maligned medic muttered with a hanged head.

“No, you nincompoops,” the older seaman continued. “The problem is that Flint wants Silver.” A number of huhs and oohs pierced the night air.

"So like... Mr. Silver's his cheese?" Cheese-lover clarified.

"Precisely."

"But what if Mr. Silver doesn't want to be eaten?"

This seemed to be a good opportunity for Madi to make her presence known. She gathered her courage and stepped into the light. “Believe me,” she said to the gathered pirate contingent, “he _does_.”

~~~

“I know a place,” Madi had told them. “An island in the archipelago nearby with plenty of vegetation and fresh water. They’d be safe there for a few days.”

“It’s not enough to just maroon them alone,” Mr. DeGroot (she had learned the ship master’s name and proper title now that they were true allies) was saying with a pensive look. “Left to their own devices, they might as well kill as fuck. We need to make sure they’re properly motivated.”

Madi nodded slowly, pondering his wise words. "I have an excellent cask of coconut oil I could spare."

"Coconut oil? For cooking?" Arms looked even more confused than normal, which was an accomplishment.

"Nevermind that." Cheese-lover patted Arms' bulging arm. "Coconut oil is all well and good, but is it really obvious enough? Mr. Silver might just use it to comb his beautiful hair!"

“We need to set the mood properly,” DeGroot said, scratching the little turtle tattoo on his neck. “We’ll probably need to leave them with rum as well. And what do we do about their clothes? We should take their clothes.”

“But undressing each other could be romantic,” Madi protested, slightly scandalized.

“So is nudity!” the one named Fooley (she thought) chimed in.

“Like you’re the romance expert, Dooley!” Arms laughed. (Right, Dooley, not Fooley.)

“At least I occasionally fuck!”

“We’re getting distracted,” DeGroot redirected (because they were). “We’ll definitely have to take their clothes. We don’t have a lot of time to play with here. They might die of hunger before even getting around to undressing.”

“Well, we should leave them some food,” Cheese-lover said with growing concern and then muttered under his breath, “Maybe a slice of cheese?”

Madi gave a wave of her hand. "Bread and fishing supplies only. Silver speaks often of fishing with the Captain."

“Does he now?” Arms quirked an eyebrow.

“That won’t be enough,” DeGroot said, looking about himself for inspiration. “Ropes! We should leave them some ropes.”

“What on earth for?” asked Madi.

“Well… they’re… pirates!”

“So, what, you want them to practice tying knots while they’re bored?”

DeGroot pulled himself up taller. "Any proper pirate knows the proper knots for, ah, love's pursuit.”

“Mr. DeGroot’s right,” the ship’s doctor nodded. “It simply won’t be any good without ropes. That way they will definitely know what is expected of them.”

Madi wanted to argue that she was quite certain Silver knew nothing of the sort, but if the pirates were convinced, well... perhaps Flint would take up the slack, so to speak.

"Ropes, then," she conceded. "And if we come back to find that they have not done the deed, well... perhaps we will have to throw them some more bread and leave again."

"Now that's spoken like a true pirate!" Dooley agreed with a grin.

“Question,” Arms butted in. “How do we get them _to_ the island without them throwing us overboard?” Clearly this overboarding was a big concern for him.

“Leave that to me,” Madi replied with a sly grin.

~~~

Flint woke from a deep sleep with his mouth like cotton, head pounding from over-indulgence. That in itself was not unusual. What was unusual was the definite grit under his cheek, and the distinct feeling of something crawling along his inner thigh.

"Captain... don't move."

Flint managed to open his eyes, blinking at the sudden brightness of a ray of sun that escaped the treetops overhead. A blurry shape over him refined itself into the familiar dark curls of his quartermaster, who was brandishing what appeared to be a twisted piece of driftwood like a club. "What the...."

"Hold still!" Silver hissed again, and swung.

Flint, like any sensible man, did most certainly _not_ hold still, jerking back away from the swing of the stick. As he did he felt something pinch down sharply on the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. He glanced down just in time to see a very small crab about four inches from his dick, with a claw-full of skin. Silver's stick made contact with the small crustacean, sending it flying through the air - along with a good chunk of Flint's skin.

"Ow! What the fuck did you do that for?"

"It was going for your - your - "

"Why the fuck were you looking - why the fuck am I naked? Why are _you_ naked?" Flint sat up, head pounding, and pressed his hand to the claw-wound on his thigh. Not terrible, he had to admit, though he glared up at Silver anyway. “Where the fuck are we?” he asked in an accusing tone. “Last thing I remember was Madi inviting us both over for dinner, which I thought was a sign that our alliance was coming apace. Now… I’m… Can you put that huge thing away, please, I can’t think!” He did _not_ mean the club.

“First of all,” Silver replied with an eye roll, “maybe you should worry about your own hugeness! And second, I have no fucking answers to any of your goddamn questions! I woke up like this too!”

“Like… this?” Flint frowned.

“Yeah. Naked and surrounded by vats of coconut oil!”

“That’s…. Odd,” Flint had to admit. “What else have we got?”

“Like five bottles of rum, one knife, and a whole lot of rope.” Flint snorted. Silver glared at him, apparently unamused. “What’s so funny?”

“Booze, lube, and ropes, come on! Every proper pirate knows what that’s all about!”

“I’m not a proper pirate,” Silver whined. “I’m just a man who is stuck to you… on you…. _with_ you. Here with you. On this island. Wherever we are.” He looked around helplessly. “Hold on, I’ll see if I can find us something to wear…”

Silver wandered off into the foliage, allowing Flint some time to get his bearings. The locale where they’d woken up did indeed appear to be quite unfamiliar. They had to have been transported here from Madi’s hut. But by whom, how, and for what nefarious purpose? The coconut oil smelled pleasant though, Flint mused as he picked up some of the rope and wrapped it loosely around his middle and his junk, attempting to weave it into some kind of a makeshift kilt.

Silver emerged from the greenery brandishing a bouquet of palm fronds in front of himself. “The fig leaf wasn’t big enough,” he informed Flint with a dolorous look.

“No shit.”

Silver looked sheepish as he handed a few fronds to Flint. “Would you like to embellish your rope skirt?”

“No, I’m good. I suspect you might need all of these.” He nodded towards Silver’s gigantic shadow that fell threateningly down his thigh from the way the sun was hitting him. Flint turned towards the sea, in a feeble attempt at affording Silver some privacy while he arranged the palm fronds around his waist and secured them with some of the rope (they had been left with a _copious_ amount of rope). “So, uh… I don’t know why or by whom,” Flint said, “but it appears that we’ve been marooned here. There’s some bread and by the remaining supplies I can only surmise that they haven’t left us here to die…”

“Then why would they leave us here?” Silver asked, coming up to stand at his side, his modesty more or less intact. “And why take our clothes?”

“Why would you take someone’s clothes and leave them with vats of coconut oil and ropes?”

“Some kind of an arcane Maroon tradition? Perhaps Madi’s people are testing us?”

Flint cast a look at Silver’s utterly confused face. It was stupid but adorable. “Fuck it,” he said, “Let’s uncork the rum?”

"That," Silver said with a relieved sigh, "is the most sensible thing you’ve said since you woke up."

As least there'd been a flint and striker in the supplies, Flint thought upon realizing it was becoming too dark to find another bottle of rum. He picked up Silver's former club and used it to prod the other man's thigh where he sat with his back against a tree. "Gonna be dark. Come help me get wood."

"I don't need any help to get wood around you," Silver muttered under his breath as he stood, swaying a little and holding on to the tree trunk.

"What?"

"Huh?" Silver shook his head, dark curls tumbling beautifully over those sea-blue eyes. _Get a grip,_ Flint told himself sternly. No matter what supplies they'd been left with and what their kidnappers intended, Silver clearly didn't want it. Silver took a few unsteady steps towards the shoreline. "How the hell did it get so dark?"

"That's what happens when the sun goes down." With the rum pleasantly warming his insides, Flint felt rather less antagonistic about the whole situation. He got to his feet, rather more steadily than Silver, he thought with satisfaction.

“Your skirt has unwound itself,” Silver declared with a grin. “So much for your great nautical knowledge of... knots,” he said with a self-satisfied hiccup. “Would you like me to…” - hiccup- “help you with that, Captain?”

Flint let out an amicable snort. “Yeah, huhuh, why don’t you help me with that…”

“I’m a proper… pirate…” Silver announced, attempting to bend over to pick the loose end of Flint’s rope off the sand and unintentionally mooning Flint as he did.

“Yeah,” Flint giggled again, “you’re the properest.”

"Exactly," Silver agreed, taking an unsteady step towards him with the tip of the rope in one of his hands.

What happened next seemed to send the world into slow motion. Silver, moving towards him, tripping over something unseen on the sand - possibly his own fake foot. Flint moving towards him to steady him, like he had a hundred times when they'd trained on the cliffs above the ocean surf. Except Flint hadn't been drunk then like he certainly was now, and before he could catch himself he was falling backwards, pulling Silver with him, down onto the carpet of palm fronds they'd piled on the sand.

For a moment he just lay there, the weight of Silver's body pushing the breath from his lungs. Somehow in the tumble he'd grabbed Silver's ass in both hands. _This is fine_ , Flint thought in the moments before breath returned. Then Silver squirmed, and Flint's little captain recovered much quicker than Flint himself.

“The bottle is poking me in the stomach,” Silver said very carefully into Flint’s neck.

"But the bottle is poking me in the thigh," Flint said before his brain could process the get-out-of-jail free card Silver had thrown him.

".... uh. Yeah. The bottle," Silver muttered. He tried to slide off of Flint, well-muscled ass shifting under Flint's hands, and somehow managed to only flop more on top of him. "Fuck, I think the rope's around my foot...."

“Well that is _definitely_ not my cock around your foot,” Flint said. Perhaps he was slightly more intoxicated than he’d credited earlier. Perhaps they should’ve spent their time looking for a fresh-water source, instead of getting trashed on kidnapper rum.

“I know that,” Silver mumbled with a dazed look, “your cock is right here.” And his hand squeezed right around the girth of Flint’s embarrassing boner.

"Yes, thank you, I am very well aware that I'm hard as a rock right now!" Flint snapped, hips jerking up into the tantalizing touch despite himself. "It's not like you're so soft yourself!"

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” Silver sounded genuinely distressed. “I’m lying on top of you, naked! Do you have any idea how _hot_ you are! You should be thanking me I haven’t poked your eye out with my boner during our training sessions!”

“Then what a pair we’d make,” Flint chuckled, giving Silver's ass a squeeze before his brain truly processed the information that was being conveyed to him. He froze, hands full of Silver's glorious ass, Silver's fingers undoubtedly still wrapped around his cock. Drunkenly, the realizations floated around in his brain with Silver's words until he blurted, "You wanted me _then_?"

"Um," Silver replied, looking down at him, and even in the dim light from the setting sun Flint could see that he was very certainly flushed. “I guess? I think.... long before then, even? I don’t know, Captain, I mean, you can’t walk around in those tight pants and not expect people to notice! I have eyes!”

“I know you have eyes, they are very beautiful!” Flint shouted with lustful fury.

Now he could definitely tell Silver was blushing. Silver’s eyes fell to Flint’s lips and his upper teeth sank into the tantilizing swell of his own lower lip. Silver looked up, his eyes meeting Flint’s like a challenge, and then he moved the thumb of the hand that was inexplicably still cradling Flint’s cock, and stroked upwards.

“Thank you,” he whispered against Flint’s mouth.

The rub of Silver's thumb over the head of his cock briefly removed Flint's ability to language. "Uhh?"

"For the compliment," Silver murmured, words teasing against his mouth. _A damn tease_ , Flint thought again with sudden annoyance, and moved one hand from the lusciousness of Silver's ass to tangle in the wild curls of his hair and pull his mouth to his.

Silver moaned into the kiss, the monstrosity between his thighs swelling like the tide and stabbing Flint’s nutsack as if in revenge. His tongue enthusiastically joined Flint’s inside his mouth, a sloppy but energetic exploration which Flint did not object to as he bit softly at Silver’s lips.

“Mmm… you feel so good,” Flint gasped into the heat of Silver’s mouth. “I’ve wanted…” He decided demonstrating was more useful than speechifying at this moment in time, latching his lips and teeth to the swanlike column of Silver’s neck.

Silver’s hand was picking up pace, squeezing tightly on the upstroke, caressing lightly on the downstroke, like a man who was no stranger to handling engorged dicks (if only his own). (His own dick was a masterpiece.) Flint thrust up into Silver’s tight grip, chasing his pleasure as he peppered Silver’s neck, jaw, and chest in intermittent kisses and bites. One hand still clutched at Silver's ass, rubbing and squeezing with increasing fervor. He managed to not lose his grip as Silver shifted over him to straddle his thigh, grinding the length of that monster cock against his leg.

"Fuck," Flint panted, claiming his mouth again as his hips canted up into Silver's hand. Part of him vaguely remembered the casks of coconut oil, but the rest of him was too far gone for that. How could he be expected to have any finesse with the way Silver was squirming over the top of him, making choked noises of pleasure as he rutted against Flint's thigh?

"I want," Flint managed, moving his fingers to press between the globes of Silver's marvelous ass, stroking over the pucker of his hole. "I want - " And then Silver's fingers were twisting around him _just so_ , driving every thought from his head, pulling him over the edge towards climax.

"Yes," Silver was whispering as Flint's mind returned. "Yes, you can have anything, everything...." the bucking of his hips against Flint's thigh grew more frantic, his breath stuttered, hot against his skin. _Beautiful_ , Flint thought, and then suddenly wanted far more. He twisted underneath him, rolling SIlver back onto the ground and diving down to close his lips around that monster cock with a groan.

Perfect, John Silver was perfect, every bit of him better than Flint could have imagined, and he had quite a vivid imagination. Flint felt like the girth of his cock filling his mouth could sustain him forever, and he sucked him down hungrily, hearing Silver gasp and curse, hips jerking up into his mouth. Then he was pulsing between his lips, coming thick and hot in his mouth, and Flint swallowed him down, thinking that finally, _finally_ he had exactly what he wanted.

~~~

When the longboat came from the _Walrus_ to the island to pick up the castaways, Madi insisted on being along for the ride. She was _fairly_ sure the two men they’d stranded for two days wouldn’t kill anyone who went ashore for them, but it was still better to be fully present to witness the consequences of one’s actions.

Flint and Silver weren’t on the shore where they’d left them. Neither was the coconut oil. The empty bottles of rum were the only witnesses to what may have taken place on that beach.

“Captain Flint!” Madi called out carefully.

“Mr. Silver!” DeGroot shouted next to her.

When they had finally appeared from the thick island shrubbery, covered in bits of leaves and grass and looking bruised and battered, Madi was momentarily terrified. What if their perfect plan utterly backfired? What if they’d ended up at each other’s throats? What if…

They were both walking with pronounced limps. Which was interesting, because Flint still had both _his_ legs.

“We found you, what a relief,” Madi said. “We’ve spent two days looking for you.”

Flint and Silver exchanged looks. “And did you also happen to find our clothes,” Flint asked, seemingly unperturbed. Madi flushed with embarrassment. Silver waved at her with a palm frond, a look of satisfied idiocy glued to his handsome face.

“Why don’t we just get you back to camp,” Madi suggested. “I’m sure your clothes will turn up sooner or later.”

“Later is fine,” Flint shrugged.

DeGroot and the others exchanged a satisfied look. “Told you he’d know what the ropes were for,” he said to Madi.

“You’re gonna row, right?” Flint shot at Billy as the two naked men entered the longboat and awkwardly sank down onto the benches with matching winces.

“Aye, Captain,” Billy replied and leaned over to whisper into Madi’s ear. “He’s still an asshole though.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please let us know if our drunken shenanigans are to your liking!


End file.
